


Barrel-Deep

by Johniarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Gunplay, M/M, johniarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim knows just what Johnny needs, though the doctor never asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barrel-Deep

**Author's Note:**

> I'm filling my own prompt on the JohnWantsIt prompt list, because I'm really excited. :D

Daddy knew what Johnny liked.

It was his job, after all, to  _know_.  Jim Moriarty owned secrecy, and he owned John Watson. It stood to reason that he knew the doctor's little quirks and mannerisms like the back of his hand- Jim knew exactly how to make the sweet little blond dance, and writhe, and scream.

The man's skill and comfort with guns hadn't slipped past the observant criminal. When John held a gun, he seemed whole. He seemed more like the soldier he'd been in better days. There were, however, small nuances other men might miss. His pupils dilated when he cleaned his illegal pistol in Jim's posh flat. His breathing slowed, his pulse beat faster...

Johnny  _liked_ guns, in a way he'd never taken to Jim's blades, and Jim wanted to give him what he so desperately craved.

John was laying on the bed, a book open on his lap, when the lights went out. "What the hell?!" He growled, reaching into the nightstand for a torch. He pulled it open right as something cold and round pressed against his temple.

"Not so fast, Johnny Boy."

Jim chambered a bullet and kissed his neck, slowly sliding down the arm of his dressing gown. He could hear John's breath catch in his throat, could sense the shifting of his blood.  _Perfect. Just like I thought_. "Do you want to die?" Jim cooed. "Or do you want to be a good boy and do as Daddy says?"

The doctor gritted his jaw and nodded.

"Mmn, smart man... I like that. Obedience is sexy...  _Strip_. Every inch of you, bare, or I put a bullet in your skull and do it myself."

He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as John removed his clothes. His navy gown first, the tight white undershirt, his cotton trousers... Jim halted him with the gun as he pulled at the white elastic band of his black pants. He pressed it against his navel and clicked his tongue.

"Black? Booooor-ing," he sang. "No surprises? No tight pink lace, no alarmingly red pants? I almost feel cheated. Looks like Daddy's going to have to punish you after all."

Jim tore them from his body with his free hand, grinning at the low growl that issued from John's throat. The doctor loved the force. He loved Jim's total domination, his ability to cow him with a touch, a word, a strike- and Jim knew it. He could trace the threads of John's submission to their very core, the deep-rooted need to surrender, to be led. It was the very thing that led him to the military, and now, it led him between the posh silk sheets of Jim's bed.

"On your knees."

John obliged, getting into position on all fours in front of Jim. His free hand reached forward and caressed the curve of John's muscular arse.  _Mine, all mine, aren't you, John? No one else gets to see you like this. Not Sherly with his cases, none of your dull exes, just me. Just Daddy._

Jim ghosted the barrel of the gun down the curve of John's side with enough force to leave a trail of irritated red skin in its wake. He gave his pert rear a hard slap, watching John lower his head and moan out his name.

"Daddy..."

"Mmn, good boy, Johnny. Now I want you to work yourself open." He tossed the doctor a small bottle and pressed the gun to the base of his spine. "Do it slow. Put on a show for Daddy, or his finger might slip..."

He licked his lips and watched John slick his fingers. In and out, one by one, coaxing little moans and grunts from the muscular veteran. He stretched himself open at Jim's command with his bourbon eyes locked on him. Jim wondered if it thrilled the doctor; from the way his cock twitched, he was almost certain it did.

"Stop."

John removed his hand like the good boy Jim knew he was. He took the bottle from him and poured the liquid over the cold barrel, sliding his hand along the black metal and smearing the lubricant. "Beg me, Johnny. Beg me, and you might make it out of this alive."

The doctor swallowed and looked back at Jim. "P-Please," he whispered, spreading his legs wider. "Please..."

Jim tutted. "Please what?"

"Please, fuck me, Daddy..."

"Are you going to be a good boy?" Jim pressed the barrel against his stretched muscle.

"A-ah! Yes, yes, I will be! I'll be good, I'll be a good boy, just don't hurt me..."

"Oh, Johnny. You know I  _will_."

Jim pressed the gun into him, slow and steady, finger relaxed against the trigger. He'd never hurt John, not without his consent, and this was the most trust the doctor had ever placed in him. The bullets were hollow-pointed, highly destructive, and if a single muscle moved out of turn John would be ripped apart by the misfire.  _Control. You’re always in control. Slow and steady…_  John groaned and shifted his hips, rocking back on the metal parting him. There was a faint shine to his skin- he was sweating, and it was hard for Jim to resist touching him.

_Just make him ask._

He twisted his wrist, letting the raised sight rub against his nerves. “Look at you, Doctor Watson. Such a good slut for Daddy… You love it, don’t you? Surrender? Danger? It makes you come. How thrilling was Afghanistan? How many nights did you lay awake, hands wrapped around that pretty cock of yours, thinking of the acrid smoke, of the gunfire?”

John whimpered. From the way he was trembling, Jim could see he was close to his limits. It was almost over-stimulating for him; on all fours, Jim painting pictures with his murmured words, the gun violating his body... He was unravelling in Jim’s hands. While his left hand kept the barrel inside of John, the other hand fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. Jim couldn’t keep himself distant any longer.

With one fluid movement Jim pulled the gun out and thrust forward, filling John with his cock. He let out a choked gasp and forced the wet barrel against the base of John’s skull. “Move. Move, Johnny, fuck yourself on Daddy’s dick like a good boy.” The doctor obliged, slamming his hips back against Jim’s, moaning desperately and begging for more. Jim kept a steady hand on the trigger, breathing slow and focusing on the gun.

“Ohn, doctor… Come. Come for me, or I’m going to leave shattered pieces of your skull all over the pillows. I  _will_ kill you, Johnny Boy, if you don’t do what I say. Come.  _NOW!_ ”

He kept thrusting as John obeyed with a scream, his cock pulsing over the sheets. Jim kept the gun against his head, hard enough to leave a mark as he fucked into him with more force. As John shuddered and begged, Jim moaned his name.

“Please, god, please come, Daddy! I did everything you asked, I’ve been so good for you! Come, fill me, and let me go…  _Daddy_ …”

Jim’s vision went white and he loosed a low growl, hips stilling as he released inside of John’s eager body. He withdrew the gun and flipped the safety on before tossing it aside.

“Good boy, Johnny. Fuck, such a good boy for me.”

He pulled out of him, watching him leak with a coy smile.

“ _My_ good boy.”


End file.
